by "The Real A"
December 28, 1998 - #66
Well, dear readers, I hope you had a Merry
Christmas and that Santa was good to you. My
annual Christmas Eve party was a big success,
with much spaghetti being consumed by all.
Why, we even had a visit from
Mr. Mark Bakalor, who consumed his very own share of said spaghetti (note from Mr. Mark Bakalor: said spaghetti was quite delicious however I would have liked some Wacky Noodles, in addition). Next week, I will be sharing our
activity photos from the party with you. Then
you will all feel like you were actually there
even though you weren't actually there even
though I wish you all had been actually there
or here and by God this has turned into one
of those confounded run-on sentences that just
will not stop no matter what I do because there is only
one way to stop it and that is to hit the key
I'm about to hit which is a ".". Whew. I
thought that sentence would never end and yet
it has which just goes to show something or
other. Thank goodness for the period and for PMS (Period
Management System).
I have been a lazy loafer this whole Christmas vacation. Not a lazy oxford, mind you, or a lazy size 6 pump with stiletto heels, no, I have been a lazy loafer, just sitting on my couch like so much fish doing absolutely nothing. I enjoy being inert. That sounds like a Rodgers and Hammerstein song, doesn't it? I Enjoy Being Inert.
When friends find themselves so busy,
All that energy they exert.
All that running it makes me dizzy,
I enjoy being inert.
Great song. Well, I didn't want to point
this out, but 1999 is almost upon us. That's
right, you heard it here, dear readers, 1999
is but a moment away. So, I've decided to
be like Dick Clark (although I haven't had a face lift) and do a countdown to the New Year. Yes, instead of one whole column,
we're going to do something truly
groundbreaking and put up a little of the
column every night. Isn't that exciting?
Isn't that groundbreaking? Has that ever been
done? Wait a minute, I'll be right back.
Well, wouldn't you just know it? Mr. Mark Bakalor had such a good time in Los Angeles, that he is coming back here and won't be able to put up our "countdown to the New Year" column every night. This is heinous (heinous, do you hear me?). This is just not right in my book (Chapter 231 - How The Hell Many Times Do You Have To Be In Los Angeles In A One Week Period or The Mark Bakalor Story). Now we can't be groundbreaking anymore. The problem is I've already broken the ground. Now what am I supposed to do? Go out there and unbreak the ground? You know, once you break the ground that's kind of it, groundwise. I don't know, I was on the cutting edge of column writing here, and that Mr. Mark Bakalor, for selfish reasons is just raining on our parade. Well, I for one say Don't Rain On My Parade. By God, until he leaves this column will be groundbreaking and go up each night and that's all there is to it. That might only be Sunday and Monday and possibly Tuesday, but at least we will make the pretense of a "countdown to the New Year" column. Wait! I know! When he puts up the final part of the column, I'll put lines like this:
Then, when you reach one of those lines like
this:
you stop reading and continue the next night!
Isn't that a groundbreaking idea? You will
all be on the honor system, of course, but I
trust that no one will cheat because frankly
that would be heinous (heinous, do you hear
me?) and if caught the cheater would be
branded a Butt Cheek Of The Highest Order.
And so, as we approach the impending New Year, we will take a fond look back at 1998. I don't know about you, dear readers, but for me, 1998 was a very good year. And I think, hope and trust that 1999 will be even better for all of us. Yes, even the bird must agree, because it's out there singing Something's Coming (lyrics by my close personal friend, Mr. Stephen Sondheim).
Remember how, a few weeks ago, I was on a donut kick? Well, I have kicked the donut kick and am now on a bacon binge. Cannot get enough bacon. Bacon plain, bacon on a BLT, bacon any which way I can get it. But I don't like cooking bacon because it always spits up hot scalding grease while you're cooking it. I just hate hot scalding grease, don't you? And so, I must now go out and get a Microwave. Have you ever microwaved? It's very hard to see a microwave. You have to wave bigger, because a microwave could be missed and then the people you were waving at might not even know it. A mini-wave might work. What the hell am I talking about? Oh, yes, I have to buy a microwave. I do not like the idea of microwaves because they rearrange the molecules like the machine in The Fly. But microwaving bacon takes care of the hot scalding grease problem and so I must now have one. But what if a fly gets in there with my bacon? Then the fly might have the head of a bacon and my bacon might have the head of a fly and wouldn't that be a fine kettle of what is it, fish? Microwaves are scary, but not as scary as this column.
Well, that was a waste of a paragraph, wasn't it? Speaking of waste, Mr. Mark Bakalor brought me a printout of columns 26 through 50 so I could have them bound. Do you know how many pages make up columns 26 through 50? About seven hundred! I am the Thomas Pynchon of column writing! So many pages, so little content. And that's what we strive for here at One From Column A, isn't it, dear readers? The least amount of content in the most amount of pages. And we have been wildly successful so far as I can tell.
And so, four days until New Year's Eve. Four days until we pop out the Diet Coke and get ready to toast the New Year. Of course, the New Year might be too big for some toasters, but you can always substitute a piece of rye bread. Oh, I feel that this column is truly groundbreaking. It would be more groundbreaking if Mr. Mark Bakalor would stay the hell put, but that is another story. He is just turning into a gadabout. He is becoming a fly in the ointment. And who the hell made that saying up? A "fly in the ointment". Have you ever seen a fly in the ointment? In fact, when was the last time you saw ointment? Did you have an appointment to see the ointment? Who would make up a word like "ointment"? Jerry Lewis? The "ment" is fine. It's the "oint". What is the point of the "oint"? "Ointment". There's just no way to say that word without sounding like you're on helium. Enough with the ointment. Where was I? Oh, yes. Mr. Mark Bakalor is becoming a fly in the ointment.
Stay tuned, dear readers, as our countdown to the New Year continues tomorrow evening. This new groundbreaking column is starting to feel like Aida: Elaborate Lives: Perhaps a whole new creative team is in order. But enough about me.
Click here on Monday evening...
Send all email to me at
real@sondheim.com or use the form below...
Until next week, I am, as I ever was, and ever shall be...
Yours, yours, yours, yours, yours.
“Assassins is about how society interprets the American Dream, marginalizes outsiders and rewrites and sanitizes its collective history. "Something Just Broke" is a major distraction and plays like an afterthought, shoe horned simply to appease. The song breaks the dramatic fluidity and obstructs the overall pacing and climactic arc which derails the very intent and momentum that makes this work so compelling...”
- Mark Bakalor
“I found [the Sondheim Celebration's Company] to be completely delightful. Almost all of the numbers excited and energized me, and most of the scenes were about as pitch-perfect as you can get. I just sat there with a big smile on my face the whole show.
Which is not to say that it is perfect...”
- popcornonmyknees
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